


Wayfarer's Dream

by Samuraider



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Eventual love triangle, F/M, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Game Ending, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samuraider/pseuds/Samuraider
Summary: Two star-crossed lovers (Naomi and Paladin Danse) are torn apart by an ensuing war between the Railroad and Brotherhood of Steel. In order to spare their lives, Naomi vanishes into the dark of night with no intentions of returning.As a year drifts by, Naomi finds comfort and a new life with Ronan, a man escaping from his own past. Everything seems perfect until one fateful night where Ronan's past life returns to settle a debt. Fighting to survive against haunted dreams and ruthless enemies, the two travel to the Commonwealth, only to realize that memories don't always remain suppressed.





	1. Wildflower

She, an average person destined for greatness in the tutelage of the Railroad. Him, an honorable soldier aligned with the Brotherhood of Steel. Two factions of bitter rivals desperate to eliminate one another, and two star-crossed lovers caught in the crosshairs of the blood feud.

Any simple person would ask _Why? What makes their story such a tragic tale?_

Imagine a woman with wavy light brown hair fringing her elegant face, subtle freckles speckled across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones, and, well, much to her displeasure, a slight gap between her front teeth. It wasn't excessively wide, but she always despised the small space, which earned her childish mockery while growing up.

She had everything one could dream of: a loving husband, a beautiful newborn son, and an elegant home with white picket fences. All of that sadly wrenched away, leaving behind a void within her heart and soul.

The only beacon of light in her dismal life was a man who, on one starry night, briefly disregarded decorum by commenting on her appearance.

“The slight gaps are beautiful and so are you.” After realizing what he said, he snapped his mouth shut and prodded the campfire with a stick. She could still remember the rosy hue across his cheeks, and the awkward attempt to cover up the embarrassment through coughing. Those were the nights she treasured the most. Nights when neither of the two felt overwhelmed or confined to rules and obligations by swearing fealty to a faction, where they'd stare up at the stars expressing fond memories and future dreams.

It all seemed so long ago.

She regretted the decision, fleeing as far away as possible to evade feelings and emotions, which haunted her day and night. Did he even miss her? Why would he? She made the right choice to spare him the consequences of their friendship and whatever feelings they held for one another.

The Brotherhood of Steel would have discovered the two’s relationship eventually, forcing an end to it all through his dishonor and her death. Even the Railroad would have severed the bond by deeming it dangerous and reckless. She couldn't even look Desdemona in the eyes the night she decided to flee. Not even Deacon, who promised to remain tight-lipped of her intentions, could persuade her to reconsider and stay.

Her husband and son now dead, those she considered family torn apart by a brutal quarrel, and here she was running away from everything and everyone. Nothing worth returning to in this damnable world.

Who is she? Her name is Naomi Paige, and hell has no fury like a woman scorned.

☆☆☆

It was early morning. Dew clung to the crops, glistening when the sun hit them just right. A person silently harvested the produce, placing them gently into a woven basket. The distant thrum of a single vertibird caused the gardener to glance up. Cautious eyes watching the dark object slip behind the mountain ridges, the sound of its rotary fading away.

“Another Brotherhood patrol?”

Plucking a silk bean from a stem, the person peered over their shoulder to the speaker. “Third one this week.”

“They must be desperate to be flying this far.”

The gardener nodded, rolling the silk bean between fingers. “Unless they're from the Mojave Wastelands.”

Rustling of leaves and nearby birds’ melodies were the only sounds to break the silence between the two until the soft voice murmured, “Courier…”

The silk bean slipped from the fingers, rolling across the soil until resting against another plant. Sighing, the gardener stood up, brushing the dirt off their hands. “You know I don't like going by that title.”

“I know, and I also don't care. It suits you.”

Plucking the basket off the ground and turning to the woman standing in the cabin’s doorway, the gardener smiled. “You've always been a ball of fire since the first day we met.”

“Was it before or after I set your sleeve on fire with a molotov cocktail?”

“No. It's the spark within your eyes.” He walked over to the woman, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You've always been a wildflower. Unburdened by rules and yet, here you are.”

“Always the romantic, aren't you?” the woman asked, peering up into those gray eyes. “Would it be bad timing if I told you I graduated with a law degree?”

“You'd make a terrible -”

“Lawyer?”

“I was going to say _molotov cocktail_ ,” he chuckled, “but I suppose that too.”

“You don't even _know_ what a lawyer is.”

“No, but I know you, and you're a wildflower.” Wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist, he pulled her closer, softly humming before saying, “Something beautiful in a world full of nightmares, and I'll take that over a lawyer any day.”

She rested her head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. “You dork.”

☆☆☆

Naomi remembered when she first met Ronan. Late spring afternoon, her resting at a small, remote tavern nestled in the rolling hills. She already downed three shots of whiskey, working on the fourth, when a man strolled in wearing a brown duster and gas mask situated under a helmet. He tilted his head at an angle enough that the dangling overhead lamp reflected off the red lenses while conversing with the tavern owner.

“Always waltzing around in that NCR getup,” the bartender said to the strange man. “Can’t figure out why you’re wanting to settle down in these far-off lands. And you _know_ I can't understand a damn thing you're saying while wearing that headgear, Ronan. Too muffled and shit. Take the damn mask off before I throttle you.”

Sitting in the corner of the tavern sipping at the whiskey in a drunken haze, Naomi watched curiously as the man reached up to remove the helmet and gas mask. Shoulder length hair of golden hue flowed free, and she inhaled loudly a mouth full of liquor, disrupting the man’s conversation with the bartender. He turned his gaze, those silvery eyes meeting hers, and as fate would have it, Naomi vomited up her fourth shot of whiskey for the day.

Naomi couldn't recall when or how she passed out, but she was jostled from sleep, slung over a shoulder and staring down the back of a brown duster. Footsteps thumping up the wooden stairs, turning into a rather clean room, and she heard the strange man’s voice say, “All right, time you got some rest.” She felt her body lowered onto the comfortable bed, head lolling to the side to catch a glimpse of her blonde-haired savior.

“She'll rest here for the night,” the bartender said somewhere nearby. “Already paid her dues. Least I could do since she decided to redecorate my floorboards.”

With her vision fading in and out, Naomi watched solemnly as the blonde followed the bartender out of the room, and forever out of her life.

Until three days later on some muddy back road to nowheresville. The passing rainstorm drenched the land - her along with it - to the point she slogged onward in hopes of finding shelter for the night. Shivering, and mentally chastising herself for being inadequately prepared, she neglected one of the main rules for surviving a post-apocalyptic world: alertness to one’s surroundings.

“You're going to catch a cold walking around like that.”

Naomi spun, hand reaching for the .44 pistol strapped to her hip. Sitting atop a boulder tucked underneath the branches of a large oak tree, the blonde man smiled when she noticed him. “You're that guy back at the tavern.”

“And _you're_ Lady Vomit.”

“Lady Vomit?” Naomi straightened her shoulders against the insult. “I'll have you know my name is Naomi. _Not_ Lady Vomit.”

“Well, _Naomi_ , I'm glad to see you've recovered.” He rose up, grabbing the helmet and gas mask before hopping down off the boulder. “Awfully cold out here and with your current,” he nodded at her rain-soaked clothing, “situation, I'll give you five hours until frostbite kicks in.”

“I'm well aware of my situation,” she snapped back. “And I'm more than capable of handling myself.”

“Suit yourself,” the blonde man said with a light shrug. “But if you ever change your mind, I've got a cabin quarter mile away with a fireplace and warm stew. Or, you could try your luck out here in the wilds and hope you don't freeze to death.”

As if on cue, the distant howl of wolves interrupted their conversation, sending a chill down Naomi’s spine. She darted her gaze around before glancing back at the man. “You're not a murderer, are you? Perhaps a cannibal? Luring innocent victims to their deaths with false promises of warm lodging and food?”

“I only killed in self-defense and protecting the innocent. Judging by how you’ve survived as long as you have, you've done your fair share too.”

The truth of his statement hit her harder than she expected, reminding her of all those terrible memories back in the Commonwealth. Memories she tried so hard to forget. Much like the one connected to the .44 pistol in her possession.

Swallowing her pride, she lowered her hand from the firearm. “All right, then. The cabin sounds more promising than a night out here. Just… forewarn me if you plan on butchering me for stew, okay?”

“Can't guarantee I'll forewarn you,” he said, a grin edging at his lips when Naomi narrowed her eyes. “I'm just messing with you. Besides, I'm a vegetarian.”

“A vegetarian?” Naomi heard herself say without thinking.

The blonde man laughed. “No. I'm not.” Waving for her to follow, he began trodden down a trail. “Cabin’s this way.”

Naomi followed the blonde-haired man to a cabin that night, and the rest was history.

Ronan was a caring and humble man. Hard working, resilient, and easygoing. Even going so far as offering to guide her to wherever she planned on going next. She turned down his offer, of course, but found herself back in his company when she stumbled upon a Yao guai emerging from hibernation. Chasing her down the hill, the bear eventually met its demise by a single shot from a sniper rifle nicknamed Gobi and owned by Ronan himself. He smiled when she pestered him to train her in using a sniper rifle, and within a month, his training paid off.

Naomi managed to shoot a mole rat with one bullet from Gobi the sniper rifle. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Dancing with joy of her first successful hunt, she practically hugged Ronan until he blushed, awkwardly fidgeting by the closeness of her…uh... _bosoms_.

Their time spent together eventually went from a friendship to a romantic relationship. Blossoming in the tossing of clothes, whiskey-flavored kisses, and sometimes by tumbling out of the bed. They respected one another’s privacy, never fussing or pressuring about past lives. Sharing a sense of understanding, their relationship remained strong and enduring all these months building a life together on the acre of land they call home.

And so, the memories of an honorable soldier slowly faded away, replaced by a humble man with an untold story of his own.


	2. The Lone Ranger

It's generally believed wearing a mask meant concealing one’s emotions, or, in Ronan’s case, an excuse to obscure his past from prying minds. If a person cannot read his face, then why bother telling the truth?

The truth, however, began in 2281 near a small town called Goodsprings located in New California Republic territory. En route with a parcel, only to be intercepted by some notorious usurper wannabe, he was left for dead in some shoddy grave.

By some bizarre, yet fortunate, luck, his story didn't end that day. Rescued by a securitron and patched up by the local doctor, he set off to change the course of his future. For a man who's been shot in the head and revived, he sure didn't learn his lesson as he barreled into gunfights and a damn war between multiple factions.

Whatever the outcome was from his choices, he didn't linger long enough to find out. Gathering provisions, he set off to the horizon and never looked back. He eventually made his way across the country to where he'd spend living a simple life. A place to call home.

The people within the local area seemed hospitable and didn't ask too many questions. Some started referring to him as a ‘lone ranger’ due to the iconic NCR gear he wears from time to time. But, if he's known for anything, it's his incredible marksmanship with either a sniper rifle or the .357 Magnum pistol. Fortunately, he didn’t have any reason to use either against humankind. Not since settling down to where he now lives, anyway. Staying off the grid and thriving off the land, he's been mostly successful. Up till the point, he met a beautiful, but mysterious, woman by the name of Naomi.

Their first encounter was by mere coincidence. Needing to stock up on supplies, he entered the tavern he's been visiting since arriving in the area all those years ago. He didn't even notice the woman sitting in the corner of the room until she started coughing and gagging. Shortly afterward, he and the barkeep stood looking down at the unconscious woman and tried figuring out how to handle the situation.

Eventually, he carried the sleeping woman upstairs, laid her down onto a bed, and turned to leave. The soft caress of her fingertips against his own made him glance down at her. Something behind those hazel eyes of hers sent an odd feeling fluttering within him, but he chalked it up to nothing more than loneliness and strode away.

The second encounter with the woman wasn't due to luck, but more so with him happening to be traveling along the same road as her, which is really the only road to and from the tavern. Shivering from the recent downpour, she wouldn't have made it far. So, being cordial, he offered her a place to stay till morning.

In all honesty, something unusual about her intrigued him, and he couldn't quite place his finger on it. She didn't seem like the average scavenger or traveling merchant, but someone who's clearly been struggling with the reality of this world. Almost like a fish out of water.

Whatever it was, she never told him, and he never bothered her about it. Not even after a few months of living under the same roof, nor the night she softly kissed him for the first time.

That was the night he stared into the fireplace with a thousand questions swirling in his mind long after she retired to her own bed. Did he miss the signs leading up to that point? He's been criticized for being oblivious, especially in the field of romance, but when he felt the softness of her lips against his, he froze up. Women have kissed him before, yet, none of them sent his pulse racing quite like the sweet, alluring taste of hers.

He'd be lying if he denied ever finding Naomi beautiful. Intelligent, mysterious, and radiant, she marched to the beat of her own drums, but that night, something within her changed. Her walls fractured upon that kiss, and behind those captivating eyes told a story: Pain, guilt, hope, and even fear…

They never spoke about that night but went about life as if the kiss never happened. Well, sort of.

Naomi fared better concealing her emotions, acting as nothing changed in their friendship. Ronan managed to the best of his abilities but caught himself contemplating _what if_ with each passing day. Whenever they stood close, he withheld the urge to lace his fingers with hers, and whenever they were far apart during their daily routines, he yearned for her presence.

Perhaps he was thinking too much into it, having high hopes of something that'll never be. Maybe he suddenly realized all the times he spent alone, living in seclusion to avoid unwanted attention.

Maybe...

Naomi slipped into his bed one night. The moonlight draping across the sheets and along the soft curve of her back. He remembered peering up at her, at those perfect lips, and briefly thought it was all a dream. But then those lips tilted into a smile before brushing against his, and she whispered, “I love you.”

Their lips met, hesitant and gentle at first, growing into a fiery and passionate kiss that ignited their long-repressed desire for one another. And so, in the glow of moonlight and tangled sheets, they made love for the very first time.

Just two gentle souls in a cruel world.

☆☆☆

“They're back again,” Naomi said, gesturing to the sky. The vertibird returned, drifting over the land but closer than before.

Ronan stood up, shielding his eyes from the sun to identify the aircraft, only to frown at the unusual design.

“East Coast Brotherhood,” Naomi said, her once calm voice now tinged with sadness. “They shouldn't be this far inland.”

Although Ronan peered at her with several questions on his mind, he chose to withhold them. “Let's call it a day and head back inside.”

Naomi glanced up once more, her expression solemn as if reliving a past memory she'd rather forget. Quietly, she headed for the cabin leaving Ronan alone in the garden.

He didn't immediately follow her inside. His gaze lingering on the space she once occupied a few moments ago. Naomi didn't have to admit it, the tone of her voice said it all: a deep sense of sadness for a memory she's chosen to suppress.

The vertibird descended lower, passing over the tree’s further west, eventually rising back up and curving to the east.

“Must be heading back home,” Ronan murmured. Gathering up the tools, he returned them to the small shack before making his way toward the cabin. Pausing briefly to study the distant smoke drifting from the river a few miles out, he ignored the foreboding thought by stepping into the cabin and closing the door.

The next day Ronan and Naomi went to a nearby town for supplies. It was a cozy little place filled with humble and loving people who welcomed the two like family. The elderly took it upon themselves to fashion together a basket of sweets and little knick knacks for the couple, while asking when the two were going to bless them with grandchildren. Luckily, Naomi was the only one to hear the question. Ronan, on the other hand, had children swarming around him, their smiling faces pleading for a story or two from ‘ _Uncle Ronan_.’

One of the children, a small brown-haired boy with a missing front tooth, tugged at Ronan’s sleeve asking about the _metal bird thingy_ flying in the air the day before.

“My momma said it's an alien spacecraft,” a child chimed in.

A young girl with coppery pigtails placed her hands upon her hips and glared at the other kids. “Well, _my_ mom said it's an extra-tree-something, and they're abducting humans for some experiment.”

“No, they're not,” the brown-haired boy snapped back, still clinging to Ronan’s sleeve. “If they are, we'll fight them. Won't we?” The child peered up at the blonde-haired man, eyebrows bumping together in concern.

“You have nothing to fear,” Ronan said. Crouching down to ruffle the little boy's hair, he smiled reassuringly. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“See!” The boy grinned. “Ronan will protect us from the big, bad guys! And aliens, too!”

After telling the children a story, and purchasing the supplies, Ronan and Naomi said their farewells to the townsfolk and headed back home.

Naomi, of course, jabbed an elbow into Ronan’s side and jested about the interaction with the youngsters back in the town. “Those children look up to you, don't they?”

“Yeah. I'm their Uncle Ronan,” he responded with a smile. “I don't mind it, though.”

“Just wait until _you_ become a father,” Naomi smirked when Ronan stared at her with those light-gray eyes and nearly stumbled over a rock half-buried in the ground.

“Are you -”

She shoved a finger in his face, silencing him immediately. “Before you even _dare_ ask that question, I'm not. So, you can rest easy knowing that.”

Given by his blank expression, she couldn't determine if he was either relieved or disappointed by the news, but she didn't wait around long enough to find out. They continued onward, following the trail leading to the cabin.

When the building came into view, Naomi spun around and pulled Ronan into a kiss before taking off for their home. “Last one there has to make dinner!” she yelled over her shoulder.

Ronan just stood there watching her run along the trail. “She does this every time and I love her for it.” He sighed and proceeded to walk back to the cabin.

Once more, he ignored the smoke billowing up into the darkening sky. Closer to home than the day before.


	3. Echoes of Our Past

Some days Naomi would spend staring off into the horizon, reminiscing of adventures with her friends, while wondering if they're alive and well. Other days she hardly took the time to reflect at all.

Today was one of those _other_ days.

Ronan busied himself with repairing the fences, anchoring and setting the wooden poles prior to hammering the railings into place while Naomi gathered water from a nearby river. She didn't mind the task since it provided her some alone time.

Humming one of her favorite childhood tunes, she dipped the first bucket into the river, setting it aside once full. As she reached for the second one, movement across the water caught her attention and she scanned the opposite shore. Even over the rushing water, she could hear human voices.

Slowly and cautiously, Naomi slinked into hiding, watching as a small band of men emerge from the trees yet remaining within the shadows. They were arguing over something, fingers pointing in opposite directions as if they're lost. Another person slipped from the trees, refusing to participate in the debate by peering across the river. Once their eyes landed on the abandoned buckets, they glanced over at their colleagues but said nothing.

Difficult as it may seem in identifying these mysterious men who lurked within the shadows of trees, Naomi didn't believe they were raiders. Too organized and militarized. Perhaps an odd band of Gunners or the New California Republic Ronan once told her about. But why would they be this far east?

The men idled near the river, discussing their next strategy, while the quiet one continued staring at the buckets off and on. When the group finally made their decision, they headed along the river in the opposite direction of the cabin.

Naomi waited several minutes before leaving her spot, chancing a peek in the direction the men left. Grabbing both buckets without filling the second one, she quickly headed back home, desperate to inform Ronan of the strange soldiers’ existence in the area.

She could still hear the hammer echoing when she drew closer to the cabin. Ronan’s been mending most of the fences, replacing the rotted poles with new ones. Drifting toward the cabin, she caught sight of the blonde man crouched down near part of the fence.

“Do you have a moment?”

Ronan peered up at her. “Something wrong?”

“No. It's just -” Naomi paused, uncertain of how to word her encounter with the unusual men. “I, uh, thought…”

Ronan tilted his head slightly, those silver eyes showing concern. “Are you all right? You're looking a bit pale.”

“I'm fine. Just… wanted to let you know I dropped the second bucket of water by accident on my way back.”

His gaze flicked to the buckets. If he noticed the second one was still dry, he didn't mention it but simply smiled. “It's okay. We'll manage with the one bucket.”

Naomi returned the smile and slipped into the cabin as the sound of the hammer continued.

☆☆☆

That night Naomi lied awake staring at the dancing flames within the fireplace, her head resting on Ronan’s chest while tracing a finger along the small scar below his ribcage.

There’s something foreboding about those men she saw along the riverbed. They seemed out of place in a post-apocalyptic world. Then again, she's only reawakened and crawled free from the confines of Vault 111 almost two years ago. She still struggled to get used to everything, sometimes expecting to wake up and realize it was all a dream.

Between the crackling of the fireplace, and the sound of crickets outside the window, Naomi soon fell asleep. By morning, their routine continued undisturbed. Although, she felt more hypervigilant than usual, treading carefully, but skirted the truth whenever Ronan asked if she's okay.

As dusk settled across the land so did the frigid temperature: a warning of the approaching bleak winter. Huddled in a fleece blanket, Naomi watched the sunset, her thoughts swirling like the scattered leaves.

“Everything all right?”

“Just deep in thought,” Naomi said, glancing over her shoulder at Ronan.

Walking up behind her, Ronan slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer against him while observing the same scenery. “You've been deep in thought more often these days.”

“I know.” She leaned into his warmth, savoring it against the emerging bitter night air. They both stood there cherishing one another’s closeness in quiet solitude.

As the last remaining light faded away, Naomi slipped free of Ronan’s embrace, and when he gently grasped her hand, she found herself looking into those silvery eyes. “I love you,” he said, lightly squeezing her hand.

Smiling, Naomi squeezed his hand back in affirmation. “I love you, too.”

Ronan pulled her toward him. Lifting her chin, he leaned in, capturing her lips into a kiss.

Naomi guided him to the cabin soon afterward, and by the time they passed the threshold and shut the door, they left a trail of discarded clothing in their haste to the bed. Sliding atop the mattress, Naomi gazed at the man she loved before pulling him down on top of her for a kiss.

Delicate fingers glided through golden hair as Naomi stole one kiss after another, barely withholding a moan when Ronan trailed his fingertips along her outer thighs. It was those soft, barely grazing of the skin, that sent chills of excitement through her body, craving it even more.

Breaking the kiss, Ronan smiled and quietly whispered, “I love you, Naomi,” against her lips. “I always will.”

☆☆☆

“I'm still drawing a blank,” Ronan murmured, slowly drawing imaginary lines along Naomi’s bare skin. “Perhaps a reminder will help me out.”

They've spent the early morning in bed with the tangled sheets barely covering them. Neither of them willing to leave one another’s embrace.

“Do you ever worry about past mistakes?”

Ronan’s lips traced along the curve of Naomi’s shoulders, humming in response to her question.

“As if holding onto such memories…”

The soft lips left her skin as Ronan wrapped an arm around her waist, and lightly chuckled near her ear. “Are you regretting that day we first met?”

“When I vomited in front you at the tavern?” Naomi smiled. “I definitely regretted the next morning.”

Ronan lightly kissed her. “I don't regret a single moment with you.”

“Easy there, Romeo. You're making me blush,” Naomi said, giving him a sly wink.

“I'll do more than make you blush.” Before Naomi could respond, Ronan leaned in and kissed her with more passion yet remaining gentle, lovingly, and somehow electrifying. “

When he finally allowed her an opportunity to talk, she swung a leg over the side of the bed and hopped to her feet. “As much as I'd like to see where this goes, I have a few errands to run.”

With an expression of disappointment and defeat, Ronan rolled onto his back, pouting somewhat for the loss of her warmth. “Such as?”

“Going into town and purchasing some medical supplies.” Naomi already pulled on a clean set of clothing, sitting on the edge of bed lacing up her boots.

“Again?”

“Well,” she shot him a displeased look over a shoulder, “if you didn't keep on getting stung by those hornets then I wouldn't have to keep buying the salve used to reduce swelling and itching.”

Ronan huffed a few golden strands of hair from his face. “You make it sound as though I instigate them into a fight.”

“Keep knocking the broomstick against their nest, then yes, I _am_.” Naomi got to her feet, snatching the lightweight jacket off the back of a chair, and pulled it on. “Is there anything you need while I'm in town?”

“Just you,” he said, grinning at Naomi when she folded her arms. “I'll miss you for every minute you're gone.”

“Still trying to persuade me back into bed, are you?”

Ronan bounced out of the bed and crossed the room. “Is it working?”

She smiled regardless, brushing aside a lock of hair from his face. “You don't need a college degree to figure that out.” Tip-toeing, she kissed him and whispered, “Don't forget to put on some pants,” and walked out of the cabin.

Strolling down the dirt road, she headed for the large oak tree that marked the main road. Peering up into the thick branches where the sun barely touched, she slowly exhaled. Reaching into the satchel, she pulled free a set of dog tags, laying them across the palm of her hand.

“It's been two years since we first met on that dark, cloudy day.” She tried her damnedest to hold back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Hell, this is sounding more like a eulogy now that I'm standing here saying it.”

Wiping away the tears, and with a trembling voice, she tried again. “You told me the night before I left, you'd do anything to be with me, but we both knew it would never happen. The Brotherhood of Steel wouldn't let you step down, go into retirement, or live a normal life.”

“I left the Commonwealth to protect you, so you wouldn't have to make a choice. I don't know if you're angry at me for leaving you behind or sad that I'm not there lying beside you every morning you wake up.” She took a deep breath, letting the air slowly out to calm her nerves. “But we both have to move on. _I_ need to move on. Harboring these feelings and memories of you, it isn't fair to Ronan. He's a good person just like you. But I need to do what's best for all of us by letting you go.”

Naomi slowly fell to her knees, fingers digging into the soft soil near the roots, and once satisfied, lowered the dog tags into the hollowed ground. Staring one last time, she swept away the tears and covered the memory.

☆☆☆

Ronan spent time daydreaming in the meadow since Naomi left for town, watching the clouds roll by as he rotated the circular gold band between fingers. He had a plan or the beginning phase of it, but he's never been one for strategies. Well, any of those that require a permanent life decision.

They’ve been together for several months now, building a life and future here, but they’ve never truly discussed the foundation of their relationship. They were in love with one another, no question about that, but even then…

_No. I shouldn't think that way_. Ronan peered down at the ring, running a thumb over the smooth surface. He hesitated once before when Naomi danced in the light of the moon one night. Her laughter a melody. She insisted he dance with her and wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer and so he did.

He remembered her head resting against his chest as they swayed to the song _One More Tomorrow_ playing on the radio. She said something, looked up into his eyes and smiled like the beautiful woman she was. The soft glow of the moon gracing her skin, the sparkles within her eyes, and how her lips parted slightly…

It was the perfect moment to propose to the woman he loved, but that overwhelming sense of dread nipping at his heels for the past two years emerged once more and he just… _couldn't_.

“Quit assuming the worst,” Ronan murmured to himself. “You're too far out of their reach. If they wanted you dead, they would've done it already.”

One final glance at the ring, he smiled and tucked it away for safe keeping. Perhaps tonight he'll muster up enough courage to ask Naomi for her hand in marriage.

Following the small trail along the hills and toward home, he eventually came upon the dirt path as dusk fell across the land. The footprints etched into the soil were many. Too many. Ronan froze, eyes glancing from one side to the other. An army, trampling the grass, carving their footprints into the soil, all heading in one direction.

_The cabin!_

Without hesitation, Ronan slipped through the forest avoiding known trails and roads. An orange tint illuminated the forest, hissing and dancing flames beckoning the curiosity of Ronan. The sound of clinking armor and footsteps plodding across rubble and grass from up ahead greeted him, and as he crept closer, his eyes widened both out of fear and shock.

_How did they find me?_

A tall, muscular man stood basking in the glow of the fire. His golden helmet emblazoned by the nearby flames emphasized his stature even more. He turned suddenly to the shadows as if knowing Ronan hide within and spread his arms wide in an open challenge.

“Courier! I know you can hear me!” the Legate yelled as the fire-consumed cabin blazed behind him. “It has been far too long, and I am here to claim an unpaid debt!”


	4. Veritas Nunquam Perit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veritas Nunquam Perit  
> (The Truth Never Perishes)
> 
> Thought it was fitting for this chapter.

Almost eight years Ronan managed to evade the clutches of Caesar’s Legion, relocating from one place to another but never staying for long. He thought… no, _knew_ he was beyond their reach this far east. So, _how_ did they find him?

Both Naomi and he have gotten too comfortable in this far-fetched dream of a happy life together and look where it got them: Caesar's Legion at their front doorsteps.

But now wasn't the time to ponder over misgivings.

Flames reflected off the Legion men armor as they scoured the area in search of him. Their blades thrashing through the thick foliage in desperation. The possibility of escaping without detection dwindled the longer he waited there hidden within the shadows.

Then it dawned on Ronan and he no longer feared for his life but that of another. “Naomi,” he whispered, despair clouding his mind. She never returned from visiting the nearby town.

He heard the snapping of a nearby twig, turning just in time to see Naomi making a mad dash for the burning cabin. He reached out, pulling her from the sight of the patrolling soldiers.

“The cabin!” Naomi desperately squirmed in his grasp. “They're burning it down!”

“I know,” Ronan said quietly. “But there's nothing we can do. There's too many of them.”

Naomi blinked back the tears, clutching hopelessly onto Ronan as she watched the roof cave in. “But why? Why, Ronan?”

Those hazel eyes bore into Ronan as if she expected an answer that would justify everything. Answers that even Ronan didn't have.

Noticing the patrol advancing closer to them, Ronan hauled Naomi to her feet. A tear slipped from her eyes and he gently swiped it away with a thumb. “I'll explain it all later. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

“Where will we go?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“I don't know but we'll figure it out,” Ronan assured her. Holding her hand, he guided her away from the burning cabin and Caesar’s Legion into the dark of night.

They avoided the main road, slipping through the trees as quietly as possible. Ronan continued to guide Naomi, pausing every so often to listen before moving on. At times, he'd stop near a tree to examine a faint marking carved into the trunk, and once more holding her hand, he'd steer the two in whatever direction indicated by these carved symbols.

After what felt like hours, Ronan came to a halt and knelt to sweep aside vegetation revealing a hatch leading to some underground bunker.

“What's this?” Naomi asked.

Grabbing onto the handle, Ronan gave the latch a few tugs before it finally pulled open. “Personal storage,” he said, holding a flip lighter up to light his way inside.

The interior corridor was small with a low hanging ceiling, barely tall and wide enough for two people to pass through. Surprisingly, the original owners designed the bunker to ward off the buildup of moisture and withstand any potential collapse. Even as the passageway slowly descended further into the earth.

_Must have been architectures and engineers,_ Naomi surmised.

Stepping into a secondary room, Ronan flipped a switch and the overhanging lights hummed, spilling light across the area. Naomi noticed supplies, weapons, and other objects were stored in crates, shelves, and duffle bags, which Ronan rummaged through gathering what was needed.

He eventually held a pistol out to Naomi, “Here. You'll need this.”

Accepting it, she studied the weapon design inquisitively. The distinguishable characteristic of a woman imprinted on the pistol grip caught her attention, and she ran a finger over it. “The pistol’s a bit different.”

“Took it from the bastard who shot me and left me for dead.” Ronan smiled shortly afterward as he held the sniper rifle in his hands. “It's been a while.”

“Isn't that Gobi?”

“Yeah. Put it into storage a few months ago.” Setting the rifle aside, he started arranging clothing, additional gear, and medical supplies into backpacks. “Take this too,” he said, holding out one of the backpacks with some of the provisions inside.

Once they gathered up the necessary items, they left the secluded bunker, and Ronan quickly closed the latch without bothering to conceal it.

“You're not going to cover it up?” Naomi asked.

“We already wasted enough time getting the supplies. Not going to waste any more of it to cover up the latch.” Slinging the rifle over a shoulder, he turned to look at Naomi. “We're not coming back.”

The slump of defeat in Naomi’s shoulders had Ronan pulling her into an embrace. “Our moments here may be over but the memories are not. We'll find a new home to share and build memories together. I promise you that, Wildflower.”

The nickname had Naomi smiling back up at him. “I’d like that.”

“Now, let's keep moving while we still have time,” Ronan said and quickly pressed a kiss to her forehead.

☆☆☆

The small game trail led them closer to the main road. Something Ronan intended on avoiding at all costs. Blanketed by the moon’s glow swayed the giant oak tree.

Naomi glanced at it before tugging on Ronan’s sleeve. “I need to retrieve an item.”

“An item?”

“Over there by the oak tree.”

“Naomi, we need to -” He stared bewildered as the woman started jogging away. Huffing in annoyance, he followed, casting his eyes around for any signs of the Caesar’s Legion. Drawing closer to the looming oak tree, he watched as Naomi knelt and started digging into the soft soil, moments later holding a set of dog tags in the palm of her hand. He never saw them before but neither did he want to burden her with a bunch of questions popping up in his head. Not with Caesar’s Legion hot on their trail.

Naomi tucked the dog tags into her jean pocket, wiped the dirt off her hands, and stood up. “We can go now,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes when she walked by. Ronan stayed silent, trudging after her.

They soon crest a small hill overlooking the town… or what remained of it. The Caesar’s Legion pillaged, slaughtered, and burnt the entire place to the ground in a matter of hours. The distant glow of the buildings engulfed in flames, cries of panic and anguish echoing across the valley… it was a haunting image.

“Oh, my god. They – they’re crucifying the townsfolk!” Naomi tried to rush for the small town, but Ronan held her back.

“We can't save them, Naomi,” he said, sadness etched across his face by the reality of it all. “These… soldiers… They butcher people without mercy.”

Naomi twisted from his grasp, glaring up at him. “What is it you're not telling me, Ronan?”

He didn't speak at first. His silvery eyes barely focusing on her as if some memory replayed in his thoughts. “I've encountered them before. A long time ago. They're called the Caesar’s Legion. Ruthless as they are ambitious.”

“Why are they here?”

“I don't know.”

“Bullshit,” Naomi spat, her voice laced with anger. Those hazel eyes turned cold, reflecting resentment as she searched his face for a reasonable answer. “The son of a bitch wearing that golden mask… he called out to you, didn't he?”

“He said Courier. That's it. _Not_ my name. They don't know my name.”

“But they know _you_.”

“Yes.” Ronan sighed. He knew he couldn’t continue keeping Naomi in the dark, or the secrets he once swore he’d take to his grave. Running a hand through his golden hair, he met her gaze. “It's a long story, Naomi, and I'll tell you everything once we're out of their reach.”

“You better,” she huffed, pushing past him.

The sun eventually peeked over the ridge of the mountains, indicating that they’ve been traveling a great distance throughout the night. Once Ronan felt sure they were far ahead of Caesar’s Legion, he paused at a trickling stream to fill the canteens while Naomi rummaged through their supplies for something to eat.

“Since our cabin’s a heaping pile of ashes, where will we go now?” Naomi asked. She managed to open a box of snack cakes, but she sat there staring down at them in disinterest.

“I'm not sure.”

Once more they fell into silence, neither wanting to accept the recent turn of events that sent them escaping through the dark of night from Caesar’s Legion.

Then, slowly and cautiously, Naomi said, “I have friends, or, rather, _hopefully,_ have friends still back in the Commonwealth who could help us.”

Ronan turned his attention from the canteens to her, raising an eyebrow in concern. “The Commonwealth?”

“It's closer to the Atlantic Ocean,” Naomi said. “Boston, Massachusetts to be precise.”

“That's over one thousand miles. It'll take us two to three weeks from here to there.” Ronan stood up and walked over. Handing one of the filled canteens to Naomi, he sat down next to her. “Are you certain about this?”

“Worth a shot.”

“We'll have Caesar’s Legion nipping at our heels the entire time.”

“As long as we're two steps ahead of them, we should be fine.” Naomi laid a reassuring hand upon Ronan's. “You know these lands far better than any of those Legion bastards. We'll use that to our advantage. Once we get to the Commonwealth, we’ll figure out a way to handle them. My friends, if they’re still there, will help. I’m certain of it.”

Ronan didn’t say anything, but simply squeezed her hand and smiled.

☆☆☆

_One day later…_

The dream came again. Weaving its way into Naomi’s sleep. The memory of a stolen kiss under the starry night sky with a man she once loved. It's been over a year now since she left the Commonwealth. For the first few months it was difficult, but after encountering Ronan, the pain slowly ebbed away.

She loves Ronan. He showed hospitality where others turned their back. Surrounded by a sense of calm and understanding, rarely one quick to anger, and overall generosity and chivalry. Ronan would offer his coat to a stranger and not complain about it.

If anything, Naomi could see a future with Ronan. But every mile they walked, every day that passes by, she could feel that sense of dread and hope clashing within her. Not from being pursued by Caesar’s Legion, but the realization that the life she left behind now awaited her return.

Her friends… her pre-war home… her memories… a man she once loved but never could be with...

She must have shivered for Ronan pulled her closer, the warmth of his own body providing a sense of comfort, easing her worries. Lacing his fingers with hers, he softly hummed until she finally fell asleep.

Early morning arrived sooner than expected, and Naomi blinked until her eyes adjusted to the light. Ronan knelt beside her holding a portion of food. “Morning, beautiful.”

“You could've woke me sooner.”

“And miss out on the opportunity of making you breakfast?”

“You didn't have -” Her words were cut off by his kiss.

When he eased away, he held the food up. “Eat some breakfast. I'll see to the campsite.”

Managing down a few mouthfuls of food, Naomi watched as Ronan gathered up their supplies and doused the campfire with dirt. He worked quickly and efficiently as if he's done this hundred of times, and by the time she finished her portion of breakfast he already had everything ready to go.

“So, where are we off to?” Naomi asked once they were back on the road traveling.

“Commonwealth,” Ronan responded. He smiled over his shoulder at her. “You’ll be happy to be seeing your friends soon, right?”

_With a large quantity of nervousness to go along with it,_ Naomi mentally added. Was she even at all prepared to face her past? To face the choices, she made prior to leaving the Commonwealth, and _him_?

“Overwhelmed with joy,” she said instead, feigning the biggest smile she could muster while ignoring that foreboding thought in the back of her mind.


End file.
